Burning From the Inside Out
by symphonies of you
Summary: "But that's the difference between you and me: I care too much about people's opinions concerning myself whereas you carelessly paint your own image without caring at all." This is a short look into Alec's feelings upon his breakup with Magnus. malec-for kim. One-shot, Alec-centric. Rated T for slight swearing.


**DISCLAIMER: Don't own, Cassandra Clare does. :)**

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_shock, horror, i'm down_

_lost, you're not around_

/

All I can think about is the first time you kissed me, your lips pressed against mine and your index finger under my chin.

/

With a wickedly beautiful smirk, you sauntered into the bits and pieces of the overwhelming life I led, and everything changed. Dramatically. I don't even think you know how much you meant to me, how much you _mean _to me. I was woefully infatuated with Jace, my annoyingly arrogant _parabatai _of all people, and I found it so fucking _hard _to hate Clary because she isn't really a sort of person anyone could possibly hate. And I was depressed, lonely, hopelessly lost in my little dilapidated world of misery.

And then, you came through like a shining beam of light that whispered hope, as disgustingly cliché as it sounds. I know you'd probably prefer to think of yourself as a fashionably dressed warlock with an infinite amount of beauty to spare rather than a boring flare of hope, but I feel like speaking in similes. I saw the world differently—_much differently_—after I met you. Fuck, it actually seemed like a world I wanted to live in for once. I felt like I wouldn't be judged for the obscenity of my sexuality because I had finally found someone that could possibly fancy me back.

_Possibly_.

And I still find it impossibly hard to believe that you inevitably fell for me as well. I know, I know you've asked me time after time whether it truly is that hard to believe, and _it is_. It just is. I never thought I'd find love, but I did. Somehow, I did.

And I never thought it'd be this simple or this complicated all at once. It is a messy entanglement of perplexing emotions that I find hard and yet so easy to comprehend. Love was never created to be decipherable, was it?

Tell me something, Magnus. Do you regret leaving _us _behind? Magnus and Alec, forever diminished because of my stupidity? People make mistakes, love. Shadowhunters and mundanes do, that I know for sure. We were made to be imperfect because reality is just a representative collection of wrongness. I was desperate, so fucking desperate, to keep you in my life forever. I was so scared that after I died, that you'd find someone else to love. That's what you did with Camille and faeries and vampires and warlocks and djinns who you cannot even remember the names of. It was probably stupid keeping my desires and hopes of taking your immortality away from you, but my split mind was indecisive and rash and just _frenetic_.

/

By the Angel, do you even miss me? As much as I miss you?

I miss the ridiculous way you dress. You're all glitter and bright colors in the center of the room while I just hide in the shadows in dark clothes. Feeling your lips against mine seems like a forgotten memory, a photograph blurry around the edges, fading away like an unwelcome stain against a white shirt. I want to remember. Dammit, I want to remember you, Magnus. I can barely see you in my vision now. Your black spiky hair, your slanted green-yellow eyes, your slightly-upturned nose…just barely. They're barely there. I miss the way you say my name—_Alexander_—and make it sound like singing. Or something equally as nauseatingly corny as that. There's just something in the lilt of your voice that makes me want to fall in love over and over again until I grow lightheaded from the dizzying effects of reckless fascination.

I wonder what it must feel to stop loving someone. In case you were wondering, I haven't fallen out of love with you yet. You would probably say that I should as it's for the best, but I simply can't just fall out of love. It doesn't happen with a snap of one's fingers. How _does _one fall out of love? I most certainly hope you haven't fallen out of love with me, Magnus Bane. Or I shall be severely (heartbroken) disappointed.

My heart is slowly ripping at the seams, threatening to shatter into a thousand shards of pain. I remember that night in the tunnel when it all ended, I remember pain and horror and disbelief crashing down all around me, embracing my trembling body. Do you remember you first asked me to call you, openly flirting in a frivolous manner? I remember being astounded by your audacity and worried about what the others would think. But that's the difference between you and me: I care too much about people's opinions concerning myself whereas you carelessly paint your own image without caring at all. I remember everything. _Everything_.

Do you?

/

Every single fucking day, I feel like a part of me is missing. Not the sort of emptiness I felt due to the severed connection when Jace wasn't himself. The sort where your insides are ripped apart and you could shatter like glass any second. Have you ever felt that way? Do you feel that way even _now_? I wonder if you think about me as much as I think about you.

I wake up every morning staring at your side of the bed. It's strange not having your arms tightly wrapped around me when I wake up. Hell, I even miss Chairman Meow's tail tickling my nose every morning when I wake up. I try to make coffee the way you do, and it only tastes like cardboard.

I know you want me to move on with my life. I know, I'm trying my damn hardest. I pretend like there's nothing wrong as I train with Jace and Izzy, packing everything I can summon into my dodges and swings and punches and kicks. But practically everyone (especially Jace) can see that I'm slowly crumbling, that my defenses are slowly disintegrating, that my soul is slowly fading to dust. And we both know it's because I am hopelessly lost without you, and you are hopelessly lost without me. Accept the fact you fucking _need _me, Magnus Bane. We belong together.

Please. Please don't let my irrationality ruin our chances at a life spent together.

Together.

Happily.

Isn't that what you want?

'Twas a dream, but it could have become reality.

/

A supernova, it burns from the inside out. And then, it suddenly explodes into a burst of blinding white light and then nothing but a shroud of haunting darkness creeps into its place. I do think it's reminiscent of pain itself. Am I burning from the inside out? I've never felt this sort of pain before. Not when I watched Izzy cry for the first time when she was thirteen, not when Jace fell head over heels for Clary, not when Max died. It's a different yet somehow surreal sort of pain that's impossible to explain and confine to the fickleness of words.

I never understood why you love—_loved_—me. Sue me for being insecure, but I can't help it. My insecurities trump everything. I'm too serious, I'm too forward. I'm easily plagued by guilt, and I get caught up in the heat of the moment. I'm too doubtful, I'm too sensitive. I'm not brave like Jace, and I thought you would have fallen in love with someone like him instead, someone who radiates perfection because you deserve—_deserved_—much better than me.

I suppose love works in mysterious ways. And I suppose it also works to twist everything into undoable knots.

Do you remember the time we toured the world? I had never felt so alive. All of the city lights, old Catholic churches, villas, carnivals—it was the best feature of my life of eighteen years. It was glorious, brilliant, phenomenal. Just _explicit_.

We had it all.

Everything was gloriously perfect.

But you threw it down the drain that night in the tunnel, and all we have left of each other are the memories, the postcards, the photographs. Which are quite dusty, by the way. I haven't bothered to wipe the dust away because it would hurt too much to see the former happiness in our smiles.

/

You're all perfect, smooth edges that whisper _look at me, fools_, and I'm all sharp, ragged edges that scream _leave me alone_.

I remember hearing your soft voice for the first time—I was so unbelievably entranced, captivated, enthralled. I remember faintly hearing your worried voice while dipping in and out of consciousness when Abbadon had dealt me an almost incurable wound. A wound not nearly as incurable as the crisscrossing wounds scarring my heart. Honestly, I think I'm starting to sound like some pathetically poetic pansy.

I'm not, am I?

Knowing you, you'd probably say yes. Curse you for degrading my currently nonexistent manliness.

I remember falling for you for the first time when you sat at my bedside chanting healing spells. I remember falling asleep to the inexplicable softness of your gentle voice. I remember waking up and seeing you fast asleep in the armchair next to my bed, your mouth slightly ajar. I remember thinking it was the most beautiful sight I have ever chanced upon.

I still do. Think that, that is. I still think you're the most beautiful person I have ever chanced upon.

I want to hate you. I want to hate you _so _much. This pain, will it go away if I do? Will it fade away like the wind's eerie howl? Or will I break even more like the relentless waves colliding against the jagged rocks at Scopello?

Will this pain be unending like the glittering blue of the ocean? Or will this pain be temporary like a paper cut on one's index finger?

Love is the purest form of hate.

/

All I can think about is the last time you kissed me, the saltiness of tears intermingled with the sorrow of our last embrace.

/

_i don't know when i lost my mind_

_maybe when I made you mine_

/

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**A/N: Please, no bashing. This was my first time in a while writing something that isn't Harry Potter related. And, it's probably the first time I've written in 1st POV. Hope you liked it a bit, at least.**

**Please don't favourite without reviewing! =)**

**-nic.**


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